Darkstar Rising
by SnowCrash
Summary: Chapter Eight up. Strange things are afoot at the One Drop.
1. Riding Zen (chapters 1-5)

**Darkstar Rising, Chapters one through five: Riding Zen; Morning; Run-on/Fragment; Sorry, try again; and Blood with Every Step.   
  
Author's notes: **Chapters one through five have been combined for reading ease. Oh, and this is my first fanfic. If you like it, you better review, or I'm going back to the more lucrative world of...well, studying. And writing my novel. Remember, I can handle negative reviews, so if you think this is crap, feel free...if my characterization is off, or you just don't like my distinctive style, let me know. That's what I'm here for: to get better as a writer, while you guys sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labor, even if those fruits are rants that are paced like a kid with ADD on Crack.   
  
Using techniques I learned from the Hardy Boys' adventures by Franklin W. Dixon, I've mastered leaving all of you in suspense. I'm sorry. If my writing was better, I'd feel more comfortable just leaving off wherever. But, that not being the case, I'll stick to my Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew endings.   
  
I think I messed up the tattoo numbers. The only research that I've done is that I have watched every episode. I haven't checked out the official website or anything. Forgive me if I get anything wrong, and let me know so I can fix it. It rankles me to screw something like this up.   
  
This one's for Monica. (Thanks.)  
  
**Disclaimer (sponsored by 7up): ** Never owned em, never will. Except for when I come out with Wild 7up and Wild Cherry 7up. But that won't last long. Believe me. It's just a fad, like Crystal Pepsi.   
  
**Disclaimer two:** If my stupid plots are somehow stealing money from your giant corporate machine (which I doubt--anyone who reads this will be watching every week, anyway) then go ahead and hire me. I'm serious. I'm not making money from this, that's for sure. I did it for the love, kids. Daddy's doin' it for the _love.  
  
_**Disclaimer three:** Though I don't own these characters, neither does Fox, or any of their affiliates. (Okay, while legally, they do, in my mind, they don't). Check out Neuromancer and Virtual Light by William Gibson. Hey, while you're at it, check out the sequels to those: Count Zero & Mona Lisa Overdrive, and Idoru & All Tomorrow's Parties, respectively. You ought to notice some similarities between Max and the main female characters in those books, as well as in the relationship between Molly and Case (Max and Logan). 1983, and the man extrapolates Cyberspace--invents the _word_ for cyberspace from watching kids play Galaga or Pac-man or something. That's intense. (BTW: my Galaga high score is over 200,000--beat that, you Gen-Y bastards!) Hell, while you're at it, you might as well check out Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson. He's a damn genius, he's funny, and Y.T. might seem a little familiar to all you Dark Angel fans too. So now that I've plugged my favorite books and now that the intro is officially longer than the story--check it out. Here it is. Chapters 1-5. Boy-eee!!  
  
**Darkstar Rising, chapter one: Riding Zen  
**_  
_**Dogchild**  
Darkness  
never cold  
blisters skin burns body boils blood blackens bone  
My molten shadow and I extinguish  
our infernal demons  
stomp them out  
his tiger eyes  
anticipate  
blink yellow in hot darkness.  
He  
my vampire tumor  
tears out  
not of this freshly mown suburban  
world  
he is the moon--  
silver luminescent wolf's eye that  
conquers the horizon  
a soulless feral camera lens (the eye that blinks not)  
watching suburbia burn.  
His blackened clawed hands rend and  
throw me on the funeral pyre  
and I dogchild  
burn  
  
11/23/99  
  
_God DAMN...what a rush_. Max was racing again. The only time she felt alive. The only time she felt whole. As she was leaning into a turn, her Ninja hit a puddle of water. She brought the cycle upright, fighting its natural tendency to slide out from under her; her uncanny balance had won again.   
  
Nice. If she couldn't have tryptophan, she'd take epinephrine any day: natural high. Get the heartbeat running loud enough in your ears, and anybody'd be a Zen freakin' monk. That was the best part: Zen out, and forget that you were both better and worse than everyone else--that you were stronger, faster, quite possibly smarter too, but you were still hunted like a dog. That life wasn't fair. That you weren't human.   
  
Manticore: man's head with a lion's body and a spiked, poisonous tail. At least that's what she'd read from an old, tattered, pre-pulse book. She had a human's face, and her body was (metaphorically speaking) a cat's. The barbed tail, though, that was the challenge. Lydecker was smart. He hadn't named his charges that for no reason. Maybe it was a metaphor. Maybe it had to do with her training.   
  
She'd smoked the poor loser she'd been racing with, now she was just driving, going. Where? She'd make it up as she went.   
  
The rain started up again: a slow, constant drizzle. Max scaled back the speed to compensate. That's when she saw her for the first time.  
  
Max was at the wrong end of a sniper rifle. Behind said rifle was a blond girl in city camo--all greys and blacks and whites. But no one could hit her doing 65 on a cycle, could they?  
  
That's when she felt it: the world beginning to shift and undulate beneath her, beneath her cycle. Only then the pain. Only then the dart in the leg. Looks like they could hit her doing 65 on a cycle. Lucky thing it was a tranq. Otherwise...   
  
Max slowed the cycle, stopped it. She stumbled off the side of it, as it fell heavily to the street. The rain coming more heavily, now, the girl coming back into her vision much closer.  
  
Who are you? Max managed.  
  
  
  
What do you want?  
  
Sleepy time, Maxie. And then she was behind Max, then she was slipping an arm around her throat. Max was already sinking, grabbing the arm, sinking, then bucking her hips and judo-throwing the girl onto the hard street, even as the world shifted and swirled around her. Bang. That throw should have broken some bones. Stupid bitch. She should have been trained better than that.  
  
The girl, better known to her handlers as number 8276531, was out. Unfortunately for Max, the girl was also in radio contact with her handlers. They were in a van, not too far away, and they were coming.   
  
The rain was pouring now, or at least Max thought it was. She sunk to her knees, blackness at the edge of her vision. Logan. Goddamn it, Logan!  
  
Where was that man when you needed him? Always having to get rescued like some damsel in distress. Blackness closing in. And she could hear the van coming...the only sound besides the rain and the night.  
  
That's when Original Cindy grabbed her from behind, yanking her to her feet.  
  
Girl, I've never seen you have too much to drink. What'd you have, a fifth of Jack?  
  
That's when Max passed out.  
  
**Darkstar Rising, Chapter Two: Morning  
**  
**untitled  
**in darkness:  
your breathing  
only one thing reamins  
to wash your smell from my clothes  
with my tears  
  
6/27/00  
  
_Headache. Christ what a headache. _Max woke up in what she took to be her apartment. Kendra was long gone.   
  
Two things were paramount: one, a couple...or five, asprin; and two, some tryptophan. That might help things out, here.  
  
But as she was walking to the kitchen for some morning relief, the thought hit her: _my bike. My BIKE!  
  
_ She pivoted on one foot, swinging towards where she kept it...there. With a note on it.  
  
_ Glad I could help. Nice Wheels. Luv, Original Cindy.   
  
_ Nice. Now she could get back to the serious buisiness of curing this hangover. And remembering exactly what the fuck happened last night.  
  
She palmed a handful of pills, both asprin and tryptophan, and dry-swallowed. That was nice. That was better. She'd need some water in a second.   
  
She dialed _Jam Pony_ first.  
  
Phone ringing, Normal saying: Jam Pony, coming up at the end like a question.  
  
Normal, Max said, I'm sorry, I can't ride today.   
  
As unusual as it may seem, with you hooligans always off in your own worlds, Cindy's already called in for you. So you're covered. This time. But I'm watching you, Max. Don't give me an excuse...  
  
Max had hung up on him and was already dialing Logan before Normal could even finish his sentence.   
  
Logan's answering machine clicked on: No one's here. Leave a message.  
  
Logan. Max. Look...I need info. Hit me back on my pager, and I'll drop by later.  
  
She was getting water now, drinking down a liter in one long gulp. God. That should cure her dehydration. What in God's name was in that stuff they hit her with last night? Had she been followed? Ah, man. It was enough to make even an experienced runner like herself paranoid.   
  
She went to the window, looking through the dirty glass to the street below.   
  
That Girl. Again. This was getting exquisitely old. The girl hadn't seen Max yet, and she ducked back down inside.   
  
This little escape was going to take some doing.   
  
**Darkstar Rising, Chapter Three: Run-on/Fragment**  
  
**untitled  
**this is the part of the story where  
highway stretches out in front of me  
beats pump melody directly into my soul  
tears stream from my eyes  
I am the wind whipping by at 80 miles an hour  
I am the stars above me  
  
and she is out there somewhere,  
hips slung in a gunfighter stance  
a delicate, sure harmony  
  
we are together in this moment  
and  
I am everything  
  
10/22/00  
  
_ Damn it, damn it, damn it. _Curses like a mantra. A breathing pattern. A place to focus. _So stupid: I let them find my place!_   
  
That's when the training kicked in, and she was already thinking tactically: _what do fresh out of the box, unused, pristine manticore babies **not** know?  
  
_Max was already moving. She had a bag packed for this exact purpose. Max, looking out the window again as she threw the aspirin and the tryptophan into her bag. The girl on the street standing above the puddles from last night, head inclined upwards, scanning the windows of her apartment building. Puddles already throwing oily rainbows to the sky. _Damn. The Ninja is gonna have to stay. It's fast, but too loud. If that girl's working on a team, they'll be on me in seconds...I'll have to just sneak my way out, and hopefully I can come back for it later. _   
  
Max was in the hall, walking to the fire escape on the opposite side of the building, opening the window, then sliding...down. She was on the street. No problem. Walking in the crowd, just a another face...nothing to see here. Now unlocking her bike from the bars shadowing a basement-level apartment. _Good thing I was too lazy to bring this up with me_. She'd used the old bike messenger trick: covering the bike with duct tape and making it look as useless as possible. And it was still intact. So far, so good. She tossed the Kryptonite lock in her pack. _Time to bounce._  
  
That's when Max could sense that girl behind her. Max forcing herself to move in slow motion, forcing the girl not to notice her, now sliding one foot onto the pedal, now the other. And she was riding...not bolting, just cruising.   
  
_Holy Shit...that was close_, Max thought, almost missing the irony that the training that Lydecker had given her, when combined with a liberal dose of street-smarts, was the only thing that kept her a step ahead in this cat and mouse game. Another irony there: the genes of a cat playing the part of a mouse. _Are we mice or are we men? _she imagined Lydecker saying to his army of cat warriors--like a cartoon--not noticing that they were neither mice nor men. She almost laughed. She was thinking crazy thoughts now...irrelevant to the mission: live.   
  
She turned the corner, and then bolted, her legs pumping as she downshifted. Her bike had three top gears: big, really big, and ridiculous. It was the fact that she could probably squat 400 lbs. all day that let her ride as fast as she did. Her lowest gear for RPMs was what most people had as a mid-gear. It was tight. It was also the reason that Normal hadn't fired her--she could make runs faster than anyone. Plus, it made it nearly impossible to steal her bike. You'd have to be a powerlifter to get the pure muscle needed, but almost no powerlifter had the endurance to pump out more than a few reps. They'd have to gear down and go slow--and little Max could catch them on foot.  
  
For now, though, Max was easily doing 30 miles an hour, leaning into each turn. _Logan had better be home. We have to get the hell out of dodge. We? _She thought, _don't I mean me? No. We. We need to get the hell out of dodge. _Max smiled. _Are we mice or are we men, Logan?  
  
_And she was there, locking her bike, running into the elevator, and into Logan's apartment.   
  
Hi Max, Logan said, grimacing a little.   
  
That's when she saw him...and her. That girl. Still in the Camo. Pointing a gun at Logan's head.  
  
_Okay...this is just weird. First I break her leg, then she's outside my apartment, and now she's here? What gives? Who is this bionic bitch?  
  
_**Chapter Four: Sorry, try again**_  
  
_**haiku  
**life is told sometimes  
in empty mountain dew cans  
sorry, try again  
  
  
_Girl looks hyped up--like this is her first real mission_,Max thought. _She doesn't smell like the other one, either. Something's wrong, here.  
**   
**_****You hurt my sister, bitch! The gun now quivering in her hand. Logan looked up, going for eye contact with Max.  
  
_Ah, sister...but they look exactly alike. Are they twins? Triplets? Does that even happen in Manticore? _Thoughts racing, now.  
  
Max subtly nodded at Logan's eye contact. They had a plan. When he said something, and the girl's eyes shifted to him, Max would disarm her.  
  
That's when Bling walked in.  
  
he called out.  
  
The girl's eyes looked like they'd jump right out of her head as her Glock 9mm swung to face Bling...the first shot going wild and ripping into Bling's well muscled shoulder instead of his chest. Bling yelled out in pain as Max closed the gap with a side kick, following it with a disarming motion that banged the tendons in the girl's arm, forcing her hand open, and flinging the pistol into the air.   
  
I hate guns...I find them so...impersonal, Max said.   
  
Max could practically see the girl's nervous energy flowing off of her. She'd never been in real combat before...her muscles were too tense. No way would she be able to fight with Max for any length of time: that tension would drain all of her energy.   
  
Suddenly, Logan savagely slammed his elbow into the girl's solar plexus. The girl crumpled like a ragdoll. With a bellow of rage, looking like a madman, Bling brought both hands over his head, moving forward, yelling, and bringing them down on top of the girl's neck. The girl was immediately knocked to the carpet. Max hadn't even broken a sweat, and this girl was out.   
  
Bling suddenly realized exactly how much he was bleeding, and he grabbed his bloody right shoulder with his left hand, trying to staunch the flow of blood.   
  
Goddamn it, Bling bellowed.   
  
Max, there's a med kit in the bathroom. Get it, Logan said.  
  
Max, though she didn't exactly like being bossed around, didn't mind the command too much. _After all, decisive action is the difference between failure and success, _she thought, the familiar Manticore platitude strangely comforting.   
  
Logan moved to get the gun. He cradled the Glock in his lap, facing towards the prone girl, ready to shoot if it became necessary.   
  
You okay, Bling? Logan said.  
  
I'll be okay, I think, once we can get to a hospital.  
  
No can do. Lydecker knows we're here. Reinforcements are probably on the way as we speak. We have exactly one option. Go, said Logan.   
  
said Max, returning with the med kit.   
  
Anywhere but here, said Logan, The farther, the better.  
  
Max sat down to look at the wound. In and out, she said, looks like a flesh wound. It'll hurt, but you'll have full use of your shoulder once it heals. No bone damage. Now, what did the guy who walked into a bar say?  
  
Bling said, then, under his breath, let out a low hissing noise that sounded like as Max poured disinfectant all over his shoulder.  
  
Very good, Max said, pulling out a bandage and some adhesive. Now this should hold you until we can get you to a real hospital.  
  
Max finished the patch, and she and Bling tied their prisoner up. Bling threw the girl over his uninjured shoulder, and they took the elevator to the garage, one floor below the lobby of Logan's apartment building.   
  
Where Lydecker's shock troops awaited them.   
  
**Darkstar Rising, Chapter Five: Blood with every step**_  
_  
**strength**  
fire, earth  
void.  
  
Blood.  
  
With every step:  
diamond dreams and playtime approaching  
fast  
  
White knight, unshielded  
falls.   
  
(03/03/98--revised 02/11/01)  
  
Inside the elevator, Max could smell blood. Truth be told, it was driving her kind of wild. She didn't think that she was this animalistic, but this was driving her crazy. She had to get out of this elevator before she started snacking on Bling. Underneath, the scent of the girl wafted up. Definitely Manticore. Definitely _not _the girl who had attacked her with the tranq last night. What the hell was going on here?  
  
In the garage, Lydecker had her now, he could feel it. It was like a warm pulse in his icy veins. Another member of his family was coming home. His cronies swarmed around him, armored in full gear, prepping to assault the top floor. He had men in the lobby and garage, cutting off exits, and his main force who would ride the elevator up to that Cale man's apartment and smoke her out. It was perfect. There was no way that she'd escape his clutches this time. All he had to do was radio in the orders, and everything would be ready in five minutes. All that number 8276533 had to do was keep them busy for five minutes, and he'd have them.  
  
That's when the elevator opened.  
  
Max and Lydecker were face to face. For a split second. Then all hell broke loose.   
  
Logan slapped the close door button. Max, already half wild from the smell of blood, was out of the elevator before the doors could close.   
  
Logan yelled, The doors already closing.   
  
But she was gone, dropping Lydecker to the ground in a takedown that Lydecker himself had taught her. It was _go_ time.   
  
Lydecker was stunned for a moment after his head struck the ground. The world undulated dizzily in front of him as Max drew back a closed fist to strike his face.  
  
His troops, stunned by the sudden movement of this leather-clad vixen, were shocked back into reality by the sight of Max's fist, coiled back to strike. One of them brought his rifle to his shoulder, aiming for Max.  
  
Don't shoot, man, you might hit Lydecker! a second one said.  
  
Max brought her fist down on Lydecker's face, the soft cartilage of his nose crunching wetly--like breaking celery--under her knuckles. He tried to breathe out. The blood all over his face just bubbled up. Max's second fist came down over his eye. Later, he would have a shiner for weeks, his eye too swollen to see.   
  
That's when one of his guards went for her, running up and swinging the butt of his rifle at her temple.   
  
Max was already gone.  
  
What the fu... he started.  
  
She's superhuman, you jackass, Lydecker tried to say, though it came out more like Slees shouperhuuan, oo jakans, because of his broken nose.   
  
At this point, Max had rolled off of Lydecker and was running for Logan's Pontiac Aztek.   
  
_Dammit, everything's going straight to hell_._ How'm I supposed to rescue Logan when I'm in the garage, and he's on some other floor?  
  
_Luckily, the Aztek wasn't locked. Max hopped in, grabbing the spare key from her keychain. Logan had finally realized a few days ago that it pays to have your personal bodyguard have the keys to your house and your car.   
The engine started up with a roar. So far, so good. Logan's hand controls (attached by a metal bar to the gas and brake) were always getting in her way, but this was going to have to work anyway. Max slammed on the gas, laying tire all over the parking garage. She tapped the stereo button, and Rage Against the Machine popped on, full volume. Surprising, in some ways. She thought that JS Bach was more Logan's speed, not fifteen-year-old Rap/Rock fusion. Still. It rocked, and the Aztek's stereo blasted it out. Ahead of her, she watched Lydecker's shock troops scatter like scared antelope running from a lion.  
  
_ That's right...get the hell out of the way. Maxie's comin' through.  
  
_Somewhere, everywhere, Zach de la Rocha was screaming:   
  
_Yeah, I'm rollin' down Rodeo with a shotgun/these people ain't seen a brown skinned man since their grandparents bought one.  
  
_She was out the garage and into the early afternoon traffic. Now all she had to do was figure out how to get Logan and Bling back.  
  
In the elevator, Bling and Logan were going up to the top floor.   
  
We need to figure out a way to rendezvous with Max, and we can't go through that garage. You saw how many of Lydecker's men were in there, Logan said.  
  
I've already been shot once today, Logan. I have no desire to make it twice.  
  
Well, what advantages do we have, here? We have control over the only elevator in the building. That means unless they have air support, or have been moving people upstairs without us noticing, we have control over the loft, still.  
  
But how can we play that into getting Max back? It's not like you can just be acrobatically sliding down the fire escape or anything to the street below.  
  
Maybe she can come to us. She's done it before.   
  
Max, meanwhile, was outside, tearing ass around the building, working the very same problem around in her mind when it came to her: Lydecker was after her, not Logan. Following that to its logical conclusion meant that she might be able to draw Lydecker and his men away from Logan's apartment for long enough for them to escape. It was worth a try. She slowed the Aztek down enough so that she could make sure that Lydecker's vehicles were after her.   
  
There. She counted two vans and four hummers. _That should be the full entourage_, but Max thought, unsure. _God. I must be crazy...I'm taking all the heat for Logan, now.  
  
_Far above her, Logan and Bling were getting out of the elevator and into Logan's apartment. Logan rolled immediately to the phone and hit the number for Max's pager. Then he rolled to his computer, where he went to work, breaking into Lydecker's radio frequencies once again.   
  
Max felt her beeper, set to vibrate, go off. She checked it with one hand, keeping the other hand on the top of the steering wheel, the smaller Aztek outmaneuvering the larger, slower, hummers and vans. What she wouldn't do for her Ninja right now. Logan. Christ. He'd gone back to the apartment. She replaced the pager and picked up the car phone, dialed Logan.  
  
He picked up before the first ring had finished.  
  
she said, I'm trying to draw them away from the building, so that you guys can get out.  
  
Max, look. We still have that Manticore victim that tried to kill me. I'm going to try to arrange a trade. You for her.  
  
Have you flipped it, Logan? You versus a small army of Lydecker's thugs. How are you going to keep Lydecker from just taking her back?  
  
We stopped the elevator, and Bling's guarding the stairway with that pistol.  
  
Max grimaced at the mention of that pistol.  
  
So you nail one, maybe two of deck's thugs, but eventually, the bad men with the Automatic Rifles are going to beat the good guy with the pistol. That's not training, Logan, that's just common sense. It's not one of those old video games where the baddies will just keep walking in the door to be mowed down by your pistol. All they have to do is point around the corner and spray bullets--or maybe they'll just throw a flash-bang, and when you guys are all blind, they'll come in and kill you. No. The tactical situation isn't good yet. After I spread Lydecker's men out and you escape, we may be able to work out a trade, but until then, a trade is suicide. You already have their radio frequencies, don't you?  
  
Logan said, unaccustomed to being commanded around.  
  
Good. Wait until they're all out of the building, then _get out_. We can work out a trade when they don't know where you are, Logan.  
  
Logan started to say something else, but Max had already hung up on him. She was right, though. His plan did leave a little something to be desired.   
  
Logan patched into the radio system, and began recieving broadcasts:  
  
All units: target is fleeing via a 2001 Aztek down Bellaire street. All units withdraw from the building and pursue the target.  
  
_Okay, Max. Ball's in your court now. I hope you know what you're doing, _Logan thought.  
  
_  
_


	2. Chase Scene

**Darkstar Rising, Chapter six: Chase Scene  
  
Author's Notes:** Lying in bed in the wee hours of the morning, I realized that I had taken a rather hard-line with my other Author's notes. Let's get this clear: I realize that I have about as much chance to get a staff position writing for Dark Angel as a guy playing fantasy football has of getting to play in the NFL. (Cue up _Rocky _theme song)But if Kurt Warner can go from stocking groceries to a superbowl championship and then to being the number one rated quarterback in the NFL, maybe, just maybe, I can be a writer. Hell, maybe I can be a football player! If I stand on the Denver sidelines long enough, they'll put me in at running back. I'll have an incredible season of 100+ yard games, courtesy of the offensive line, then I'll injure my knee and have to watch the next two seasons from the sidelines while assuring the coaches and the media that I'll be back anytime. I'll join that fraternity of Terrell Davis, Olandis Gary, Mike Anderson... SnowCrash. Oh, who am I kidding--this whole plan requires a few years languishing away in the Canadian Football League. Then, and only then can I write for Dark Angel. Wait...I got confused, I think...  
  
Uh, and I'm thinking about changing the rating of this piece to R. I'm not sure if this is really a PG-13. Lots of violence and cursing, but no sex so far. I said _so far_, you horny bastards! Input? Comments?   
  
And this one _is _longer, too.   
  
This is my first car chase scene, so, let me know what you think. I tried to get all the details right, but I wish I could've done what Neal Stephenson did in Snow Crash :...after that, it was just a chase scene. Chase scenes are hard to do. That's why this took so long in coming.   
  
Thanks go out to James, for the rides in his 72 Hemi-'Cuda; Daryl, for the rides in his 69 Mustang Mach 1; Fletch, who drove from Tacoma WA, to Canada via I-5 last week and was willing to tell me about it; Jesska, for the talk about Snow Crash and for sharing some of her Master Drive instructor secrets with me; Curt Rich, author of Drive to Survive; and last but most certainly not least, Monica, pooh_bah, and everyone else who's eMailed me with suggestions. Thanks especially to bk, who was kind enough to beta this piece (and did a great job, I might add).  
  
**Disclaimer one:** All these characters belong to me. To **ME**! Do you hear me, James Cameron?! Do you hear me, Mr. Aliens? Mr. Terminator 2? Mr. Titanic? To MEEEEEEE!!! Go back to driving trucks or to directing movies, cause Dark Angel's mine.  
  
**Disclaimer two:** Kids, don't try this at home. Don't try it on I-5, either. The police _will_ arrest you. I'm not kidding.   
  
**Disclaimer three: **Everything said in **Disclaimer one** is patently false. The people responsible have been sacked. Enjoy the rest of the show. **  
  
oxygen  
**a whisper fades in the wind  
just oxygen  
  
12/31/96  
**  
Darkstar Rising chapter six: Chase Scene**  
  
Max was weaving the Aztek through a variety of traffic--street people, refugees hawking basic goods, and the more usual cars and trucks. God, it was a miracle that anyone ever got anywhere in this city on anything other than a bike. Guess that's why, even in the depressed economy, _Jam Pony_ was still going strong. Speaking of going strong,two of the Hummers behind her were right on her tail while the other vehicles had fallen back slightly. Their mission wasn't to kill civilians.  
  
Max had seen enough pre-pulse TV tapes to know that The World's Scariest Police Chases rarely ended with the perp getting away. She knew that, in this case, she was the perp. Her best hope was to get to Canada, about 100 miles away, where Lydecker would be out of his jurisdiction. He wouldn't risk an international incident, would he? As long as she could get some nice mounties on her side, everything would be fine. Hopefully, Logan wouldn't screw up her Get out of Jail Free card by losing the girl to Lydecker. Hopefully, Lydecker would actually want to trade. It was really anyone's guess at this point. What went on in Donald Lydecker's head was _not_ Max's specialty. One thing was for sure, though; since Lydecker now knew where she lived (and where Logan lived, for that matter), nothing would ever be the same around here again.   
  
Max's eyes glanced at the gas. Full. Thank God Logan was anal about keeping it that way. If only he was as anal about some other things--like shaving. Max knew Logan had to shave sometime, because he never had a real beard, but she'd never seen him clean-shaven. Except for in her dreams.   
  
Now all she had to do was get on I-5 headed north. That would take her straight across the border. Behind her, a hummer accelerated, looking to ram her.  
  
_ So, you want to play?_ thought Max. _Let's play._   
  
She jinked right, then left, drawing the closest of the following hummers into the path of an oncoming truck. That was one down. Max had the pedal to the floor, and it was only her enhanced senses and reaction-time that kept her from getting smoked and rolling this ugly ass Aztek onto its wrong side. Max didn't know why Logan drove this crusty thing. But she had an idea: he was the last American who still believed in the American dream of bigger cars, bigger burgers, and liberty and justice for all. So he had to have an American car. But it had to have good gas mileage: the Green American dream. Typical Logan.  
  
Suddenly, it was raining, hard and constant. Seattle weather. This would make the upcoming recreation a little hairier. Max liked it. It would probably throw deck's pukes into a spin. Literally. There was an intersection coming up. _Lets see how they handle this_, Max thought.  
  
She braked smoothly, letting up as she turned the wheel to take the corner, gently but quickly giving the Aztek more gas. Smoothness, in a car chase, always comes before speed. If your tires screech, you're losing traction, and that means you're losing speed. The second hummer behind her didn't know this, and wrapped his fender around a street light. _Dumbass_. Two down.  
  
_Corner smoothly, brake later, and hit the gas sooner._ Those were the rules, and this was Max's game. Speed was all about going in and coming out of turns.   
  
The rain was really coming down now. Everything was darkened by the cloud cover, and the visibility was getting worse. _Good_, thought Max, _this ought to be interesting_.   
  
The third driver was a little smarter than the first two, and managed to stay with her through a few turns, despite falling behind slightly because of the Aztek's better acceleration. Max decided to turn it up a notch. She saw a bombed-out Starbucks ahead that had been turned into a small shop, like almost every other Starbucks in the city, and picked that for her turn point. She popped the transmission into neutral and engaged the parking brake while she jerked the wheel to the left, swinging the back of the Aztek around. Then she disengaged the parking brake while popping the Aztek into drive, then jammed on the gas. The 185-horsepower 3.4-liter V6 sent 210 foot-pounds of torque through the all-wheel drive. As soon as the wheels stopped skidding, it sent the Aztek hurtling forward.She flashed the Aztek's brights, blinding the driver following her. Her hands became light on the wheel while the car fishtailed a little, straightening itself out. _Try that with your wide wheelbase,_ Max thought. The Hummer's driver did, but couldn't get his big all-terrain assault vehicle around fast enough, with his eyes suddenly struggling to compensate for their blindness thanks to Max's brights. The Hummer slammed directly into the bombed-out Starbucks. Max was already doing 45 going the opposite way when the driver finally realized exactly what had happened.  
  
She was on Olive Way, headed northeast. One of the vans had turned himself sideways, trying to block her escape. Max slowed almost to a stop, acting like she was going to stop, popping the Aztek into low gear. Then she clenched her teeth and slammed on the gas, pointing her vehicle at the van between the rear wheel and rear bumper. The van spun crazily, teetering and finally falling sideways, spilling its electronic guts onto the road like some kind of demented cyber-insect.   
  
The Aztek's airbags deployed. Max kept the pedal to the floor, swimming through the already deflating bag, and popping the tranny into drive. The Aztek was surprisingly unhurt... just scratches and a big fender dent. Trust Logan to have a bulletproof car. Within a second of the airbag's deployment, it was completely deflated.  
  
There it was, up ahead: the entrance to I-5. The entrance ramp curved up onto the highway. That wasn't a problem. The cars on the onramp were, though. Max pulled the Aztek onto the side of the onramp, passing a fifteen-year-old rust-red minivan filled with kids and a brand new glossy-black Audi TT driven by a young Indian guy bumping some mad Hindi-pop music. She waved in the rearview as she blasted by a third guy driving an ancient Honda Accord and giving her the bird.  
  
_Hey, he was kinda cute...  
  
_Just two left, now. A hummer and a van. Lydecker's goons didn't have it as easy: lacking the heightened senses and reflexes of Max, they were forced to slow way down on the freeway entrance. It didn't help that the Hummer's wheelbase was too wide to pull the same maneuver she had just pulled, either. They were going to have to wait for the three cars in front of them to merge. This did, however, allow the command van containing Lydecker to catch up.  
  
In the back of the command van, Lydecker was being attended to by one of his medics, the bumpy ride making it difficult to bandage his eye without causing any more damage.  
  
Where is she? Lydecker said, the words somewhat clear, thanks to the medical attention.  
  
We've got her, sir. She's just three cars ahead. There's no way she can outrun us for long, said another soldier, hunched over some radio equipment in the back of the van.  
  
Good. Try to box her in with the HUM V's--one to the back, front, and sides. Then slow down in unison.  
  
Sir, three of our HUM Vs are down. said the radioman.  
  
Then bring the other van to the rear, sergeant.  
  
said the radioman, relaying these commands to the other vehicles.  
  
Sir, the other van is down, too.  
  
Then have the remaining HUM V cut her off, and move this van alongside! barked Lydecker. Things definitely were _not_ going as planned.   
  
Max was ahead, weaving between cars, passing in all of the lanes. She passed a sign that said _100 miles to the Canadian Border._ _Here goes nothing_, she thought. _Here goes nothing.  
  
_Most car chases don't last very long. Within five miles of starting, one or the other of the cars was usually in a ditch or wrapped around a stop-sign. Max knew this--it was clear that the trailing cars hadn't known this, and had suffered the consequences. If she could get the last two to wreck, it would be a lot easier to make it to Canada. After all, it's hard to get in line for customs when you're being chased by two, large, military vehicles.   
  
All the traffic around her was slowing down. Max slid into the breakdown lane, still going 75. _Dammit, _Max thought, _I forgot about the city limits._ There, up ahead, were the city limits, posted with guards and gates.   
  
_Here we go again_. She put the hammer to the floor and blew through the chain link that had been erected. The chain link wrapped around the front of her Aztek. Max braked and swung the wheel to the right once she was clear to throw the chain link free.  
  
A guard was shaking his fist at her. She waved at him, and put the hammer back down. The V6 roared underneath her, and the round, brushed-aluminum speed gauge leapt to 85.   
  
_This is kinda fun... maybe I should get one.  
  
_That's when Max heard a siren behind her. There... about ten car lengths behind her was a police cruiser. The hummer was still about five car-lengths back, and the van was more like seven. But the police cruiser was faster, designed for these sorts of chases. The tactics that Max had for fighting a smaller car were a little different: she could take the Aztek off road or she could let the cruiser catch up, and then play some contact sports with him. Off-road really wasn't an option at this point: the hummer would eat her alive off-roading. So Max braced herself for some contact.  
  
The police cruiser was roaring up on her, doing probably 100 mph and still accelerating with the throttle wide open. Max let off the gas just slightly. She'd need some acceleration at the top end of her range. As the police car pulled along side, the driver shouting Pull over your vehicle, over his megaphone, Max tapped her brake, and pulled the Aztek in behind it. The police car, confused, slowed down. That was exactly what Max was looking for. She floored the accelerator, tapping the police car on his right bumper as she pulled into the right-hand lane. The police car spun, its momentum sending it flying into the median.  
  
_Oops,_Max thought,_ another dent. I hope Logan won't be too pissed off.   
  
_This slight contact had allowed the Hummer and Van to close with her. The Hummer was a mere three car lengths back, and the Van just five. She couldn't play the same games with the Hummer, ramming it would only get her in trouble. So she put the throttle back on the floor, hoping that the Aztek could outrun the Hummer on the straight-aways.  
  
_Thanks for keeping your car in such good shape, Logan,_ Max thought, _I'll buy you a new one... if I live. Next stop: Canada._  
  
It was going to take her at least an hour to get there, if she could keep this monster from dropping below 90, but she didn't think that that was going to happen. She couldn't relax, become complacent and allow the car to overheat, or take a turn badly and risk losing control. The six-cd changer in the dash went from Rage Against the Machine to some Bach.   
  
_That's more like the Logan I know,_ Max thought, flipping the 10-speaker Harmon system to the next CD. It was Michael and Janet Jackson singing .   
  
_I'm tired of injustice/I'm tired of the scheme/Your lies are disgustin'/ directly to me/you're kickin' me down/I got to get up/jump to the sound/hooked up and such..._  
  
_Will wonders never cease?_ she thought. _Logan's a little more diverse than I thought.  
  
_Max, weaving in and out of traffic to try to put off her pursuers, glanced at the phone. _He'd better call soon, or I'll kill him.  
  
Somebody please have mercy, cause I just can't take it, _Michael and Janet sang._  
  
_Her mind snapped back to the chase at hand. _ No time for love, Doctor Jones_, she thought.  
  
Her pursuers were falling back: the larger van and Hummer couldn't compensate for her tactics. Of course, most of the people on the road were cutting her a wide berth, now.  
  
That's when the phone rang. Max picked it up after turning the volume on the stereo down.  
  
Talk to me, Max said.  
  
Max... we're safe. Bling's at the hospital, and... Max heard some shuffling in the background, and it sounded like Bling was saying something. Bling sounded winded, but even Max's enhanced hearing couldn't make out the words. I'll call you back on this line when I can, Logan finished.  
  
No. I want to know what's going on _now_, Max said. But it was too late. Logan had already hung up. She slammed the carphone down on its cradle. _Damn. I wish I knew what was going on--it sounds like Logan's in trouble_, thought Max.  
  
She had to lose these goons. They were really cramping her style. She needed to talk to Logan. That was tough to do when you were in a high speed car chase, even if you were a biologically enhanced super-soldier killing machine. Oh, the high speed chase was no problem... it was just the talking that got her down. That was the hard part.   
  
That was _always_ the hard part.  
  
The traffic was easing up, now. The Aztek was struggling to keep up this pace, but she managed to push it up to 100 miles per hour. The Hummer and the van couldn't hack it, and were falling back. Good.   
  
The phone rang again. Max picked up.  
  
Logan, I want to know what's going on there, Max said.  
  
Max...the girl escaped.  
  
She _what_?  
  
She...she escaped, there was a pause before Logan said bitterly, You can't expect a cripple and a wounded man to be able to contain a Manticore soldier forever, Max.  
  
Max winced at the mention of the word . She still didn't think of Logan like that. But he was right. What _had_ she expected?  
  
So what am I supposed to do, Logan?  
  
Bling just told me that there's no way that you're going to be able to get into Canada via I-5. There's too much slow-down at the border. Lydecker will be able to get out of his car, walk up, and tap on your window if he feels like it.  
  
Great. There goes that plan.  
  
There's a town to the east, on the border, though. It's called... Max heard keys tapping. Logan was probably on the net, looking for the information. The internet--or what was left of it after the pulse--was like his second brain. he said.  
  
  
  
A pause. More keys tapping.  
  
Once you get to exit 256, hit WA-539 going north.  
  
I thought this town was to the east!  
  
Bear with me, Max. It's about 90 miles ahead on I-5. From WA-539, you turn on WA-546. It's called East Badger road. Then take WA-9 all the way to Sumas. I'll give you more directions in a bit, after I get the rest of the story from Bling. You got it?  
  
She nodded into the reciever unconciously.  
  
And Max?  
  
she said hopefully.  
  
Be careful.  
  
Max started to say thanks, but encountered a dial tone instead. It was hard to be careful in a high-speed chase, anyway.  
  
For most of the rest of the ride, things were fairly uneventful. As uneventful as high-speed highway driving can be, at least. Max gained ground while Lydecker's two remaining vehicles stayed back.   
  
_Lydecker must think that I'm going to go on I-5 all the way...that's the only reason he'd play it safe at this point.   
  
_It was an hour and change before she made it to the first exit. Max slowed down a little to get her pursuers closer. When they were within two car lengths, they started firing at her, trying to take one of her back tires out with small-arms fire. Max stayed in the left-lane, jinking back and forth a little bit to dodge the gunfire until the last second, when she swung across three lanes of traffic and onto the off ramp. She heard a chorus of horns, but she only saw Lydecker's van stay with her. She had spoofed the last Hummer.   
  
The phone rang.  
  
Max said tersely.  
  
Nice work. You lost that last Hummer. Lydecker's furious.  
  
I bet he is, Max said, smiling at her coup, What do I do once I get to Sumas?   
  
Apparently, there are off-road trails that can take you into Canada. People use them to smuggle drugs. You should be able to get into Canada without too much hassle that way.  
  
How do I get there? Max said.  
  
I'm not sure. They're obviously not on my maps. They're going to be past the North edge of town. Keep your eyes peeled, and you should be able to find them. Once you're on them, Lydecker won't be able to follow. That van won't do well on the offroad trails.  
  
said Max, And Logan?  
  
  
  
Be careful, and she hit the button before he could say anything. _One point to Max on the one-upmanship game, _she smiled to herself.   
  
Once Max made it to Sumas, the Van had already dropped out of sight. Max made her way north, and found a 4x4 trail-head, quietly thanking Logan for buying the all-wheel drive Aztek package.   
  
As she slipped beneath the temperate rain-forest foliage, Lydecker was no where in sight. Max breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
_I wonder if Logan's okay, _she thought.  
  
She'd find out soon. Logan and Bling were already on their way north.  



	3. Trust

**Darkstar Rising part 7, Trust  
  
Disclaimer: **I make no money, nor will I make any money off of my Dark Angel stories unless James Cameron hires me. It is useless to sue someone for copyright infringement if they make no money from it. Therefore, James Cameron should hire me if he wants to sue me (since the only way I'll make any money is if he hires me). Since it is not usually in one's best interest to sue someone whom they have just hired, James Cameron should then cancel the lawsuit (since we have already established that he cannot sue me if I make no money from these stories). Therefore, if James Cameron, or his legal council, think that these stories are worth suing over, they ought to hire me instead.   
  
You may eMail me at any time with your job offer, Jimbo. I'll be waiting to talk it over.   
  
**Author's Notes:** I'm working on my dialogue. I can't think of anything funny to say. I'm too tired. So this one has less action and more character development, but very little happens in the way of plot advancement--just a retread of part 6 from Logan's POV.  
  
**Dedication:** To Trey B, who's constantly keeping me laughing. And for Kim, for whom I wrote this poem. I hope you're well, wherever you are.  
  
**flicker & fade  
**when I am with her  
you are a relentless, empty ache  
a television on mute  
mouthing empty promises  
  
parched  
my eyes in furtive glances seek  
your sweet coolness  
  
would I drown if I dove into  
tv static dreams bathed in blue?  
  
lying next to her  
I fall  
sky shattering into mirrored fragments  
of your face  
void below is  
missed chances the color of video screens.  
  
(02/12/00)  
  
**Darkstar Rising part 7, Trust**  
Bling and Logan were listening to the broadcasts over the radio. Bling was guarding the door with the pistol and watching the girl, who he had left sitting right next to the door so that he could watch both at once. Logan was typing commands into his computer, downloading the radio hack onto his laptop, so they could monitor the chase even if they had to leave. After transferring the files, Logan dropped the laptop with some headphones and an extra battery into his case. He went and grabbed a few other essentials--clothing, cash, and some extra Tryptophan that he kept around for Max. Stopping to consider for a moment, he threw a couple of bottles of wine in--pre-pulse Californian (he was after all, an American)--wrapping the bottles in his clothes so they wouldn't break.  
  
The first broadcasts were the various strike teams closing in. Logan had the volume turned up fairly loud so that he could hear the teams in any room.   
  
Strike team one, sir, checking in. We're in pursuit down Bellaire Street.  
  
Strike team two checking in, Sir. Also in pursuit.  
  
Strike team three checking in. Pursuing target.  
  
There were six total teams--four Hummers and two vans. Each of the vans, as far as Logan could make out, carried the bulk of the communications equipment. One of the vans was the command center, where Lydecker was running the show.   
  
Once it was evident that all of the strike teams were clear--they were apparently all still in the garage when the fight with Max had begun, so they were able to get in their vehicles and go after her fairly quickly--Logan said, Okay. Let's get out of here. Max has my car, so we'll need to take yours, Bling. Can you drive with your shoulder?  
  
Bling touched his shoulder gently, wincing slightly. I'd rather you drive, but my car's not equipped for that.  
  
Can you get the girl? Logan asked.  
  
Yeah, I think so, Bling said.  
  
Bling threw the girl over his shoulder, switching the gun to his injured arm's side. Logan grabbed his own weapon and a few extra clips, thankful that he hadn't left the HP Browning Mark 2 in the Aztek. That left Max unarmed, but she didn't like guns anyway. That was too bad. She was probably _really_ effective with them, and she wouldn't have to do this whole escape/evade thing all the time. Now that Logan thought about it, Max almost never managed to complete a successful cat burglary. She almost always got caught and had to run, so she was always playing escape/evade games. He'd have to ask her about that later.   
  
Logan locked his apartment as he left. He and Bling rode down in the elevator in silence. The only sounds were coming from the laptop as it updated them on the chase going on a few blocks away.   
  
Finally, Logan said, You're coming with me, right? To get Max? He was half expectant, half questioning.   
  
Bling said, I have no desire to get shot at again, Logan.  
  
Neither do I. Hint of disappointment in his words.   
  
Logan, I'm not a soldier, Bling, making excuses.  
  
You're the only soldier I've got right now. There was a pause as Bling considered this, then Logan continued: You've done dangerous things for me before.  
  
Nothing I've done for you has gotten me shot before.  
  
Logan said. I don't know what else I can offer you, so I'll offer this: I'll triple your pay this week, and I'll throw in an extra week's worth of pay for any gunfights, car chases, or other hazardous events that may occur.  
Bling shifted the girl's dead weight on his shoulder. He checked the Glock's slide and sights, before finally saying,Deal... but Logan?  
  
  
  
Let's try to make sure that none of those things do occur.  
  
Logan thought it was a joke, and almost laughed until he looked up into Bling's face. Dead serious.  
  
With that, the elevator hit the garage level of Logan's apartment building, and the doors opened. Logan rolled out, looking around cautiously despite his laptop's assurance that none of Lydecker's men were nearby.   
  
Bling said: Let me get the car. You watch the girl, as he lifted and gently set the bound girl on the floor of the garage.  
  
While Logan was waiting for Bling to pull up, the elevator doors opened. Mrs. Moreno, the old lady that lived in the apartment below Logan, got out.   
  
Logan was still holding the Browning on the camo-clad girl, who was bound, gagged, and unconscious (or at least acting that way) on the cold concrete of the garage floor.  
  
said Mrs. Moreno, lifting her right hand to cover her mouth.  
  
Oh... hi, said Logan, embarrassed.  
  
What is going on here, Logan Cale? she asked, somehow both imploring and scolding at the same time. Like his mother.  
  
This is my girlfriend. We're just... ah... doing a little role-playing.  
  
said Mrs. Moreno, why didn't you just say so? Mr. Moreno and I used to do that all the time. We called it dress-up. That was after the sexual revolution, you know.   
  
Logan said. _Old people just aren't the same anymore_, Logan thought.  
  
Well, if you ever need anything, dear, I'll be right downstairs. Why don't I bring some dinner by sometime?  
  
That would be nice. Thanks, Logan said, relieved.  
  
Mrs. Moreno winked lewdly. And you two have a good time tonight, okay?  
  
Logan said, relieved that she was finally walking away, even more so that Bling was pulling up in a Black Lexus LX 470--an SUV.  
  
As Bling got out of the Lexus to help Logan up and into his car, Logan said, This thing's huge!  
  
Bling, grinning, You know what they say: my Lexus flexes from Seattle to Texas...'  
  
Bling, I don't pay you enough for you to afford this kind of car.  
  
I... uh... I bought it before I worked for you, Bling said, not lying, but leaving something out.  
  
What did you do before? Logan looking at Bling as he lifted him into the passenger seat.  
  
Well, that's how I got my nickname... you know, Bling Bling, money ain't a thing.' Changing the subject.   
  
What was your name before? Logan going along with it.  
  
Bling now folding the chair up, putting it in the back.  
  
And what did you do?  
  
A long pause before Bling said, slowly, Look, Logan, that's none of your business. What I did was what I did. Okay?  
  
I think it's my right to know, Logan was irritable, pushy.  
  
Bling lifting the girl now, putting her in the backseat, saying, Your right? Your _right?!_ Look, Logan. I've put my ass on the line for you more than once after your accident. I think it's my right to keep a few secrets if I want to. Especially about how I got this car, his voice indicating that it was the end of the conversation, and the end of story.   
  
Bling got in the car, starting its huge V-8 up. The engine was powerful, but quiet. You couldn't hear it running, but you could feel it underneath you. He checked his bandage, making sure that blood wasn't seeping through.  
  
Let's go to the hospital, Bling said.  
  
The trip to the hospital, surprisingly, was uneventful, and both Bling and Logan remained silent. Logan was one wrong word from alienating Bling forever, and Bling was too pissed off and in too much pain to say much of anything. The girl in the back of the Lexus SUV remained quiet. So quiet that both Bling and Logan almost forgot about her, retreating into their own worlds, their own problems.  
  
Logan was able to arrange for a doctor he knew to see Bling immediately, bypassing the emergency room altogether. This doctor was a friend and a supporter of Eyes Only. He wouldn't talk about a gunshot wound to anyone. The way it should be.  
  
Logan called Max on the car phone of the Aztek. Having followed the chase, this seemed as safe a time as any to make a call.  
  
Talk to me, she said. _God it was nice to hear her voice.  
  
_Max... we're safe. Bling's at the hospital, and... Logan spotted Bling running up. He was out of breath.  
  
Logan... the girl's... gone.  
  
I'll call you back on this line when I can, Logan said to Max, hanging up.  
  
Logan said to Bling.  
  
She's gone. She wasn't really out. I went to check on her after they finished stitching me up, Bling said, pointing to the neat stitches that lined both sides of his shoulder.   
  
Logan had only left the car for moments to set up this arrangement, but the girl was already gone. Great.  
  
Let me go see, Logan said.  
  
Bling followed him out to the car, pointing out that she had probably stolen the motorcycle--a Harley--next to it instead of taking the SUV.  
  
Because we know the plates of the SUV, Bling explained.  
  
And we have friends in the police that could find those plates fairly easily... Damn! said Logan. I have to warn Max. Bling, why don't you get some antibiotics and whatever else the good doctor needs you to take, and I'll call her.  
  
Logan, Bling said, she'll never make it to Canada on I-5.  
  
  
  
Too much traffic. The border's awful.  
  
Do you have another suggestion?  
  
There's a town to the east. I don't remember what it's called, but it has trails to the north that go into Canada. People used to use them to smuggle drugs. I don't know if they still do.  
  
Logan called her almost immediately.  
  
Logan, I want to know what's going on there, Max said.  
  
Max... the girl escaped, Logan said, typing commands into his laptop to try to find a site with a map and directions to this eastern town. Thank God for his cellular modem_._  
  
She _what_?  
  
She... she escaped, He paused and then said, You can't expect a cripple and a wounded man to be able to contain a Manticore soldier forever, Max, _especially when they forget to keep a close watch on her. Well, it's not like I could've held a gun on her in the hospital, or even stopped her had she wanted to escape when the car was moving...Why doesn't that make me feel better? _Logan thought.   
  
So what am I supposed to do, Logan?  
  
Bling just told me that there's no way that you're going to be able to get into Canada via I-5. There's too much slow-down at the border. Lydecker will be able to get out of his car, walk up, and tap on your window if he feels like it. _That wasn't a nice thing to say, _Logan thought. _Well, it was the truth._  
  
Great. There goes that plan.  
  
There's a town to the east, on the border, though. It's called... Logan typed a few more commands into his laptop, waiting as the Washington map loaded, then said, ...uh... Sumas.  
  
  
  
Logan keyed in the instructions for word based directions from Seattle to Sumas.  
  
Once you get to exit 256, hit WA-539 going north.  
  
I thought this town was to the east!  
  
_She could really be shortsighted sometimes, couldn't she? Well, she's still young._ Logan thought. Bear with me, Max. It's about 90 miles ahead on I-5. From WA-539, you turn on WA-546. It's called East Badger road. Then take WA-9 all the way to Sumas. I'll give you more directions in a bit, after I get the rest of the story from Bling. _Like why he knows how and where to smuggle drugs into Canada. _You got it?  
  
  
  
And Max?  
  
  
  
Be careful, Logan said, genuinely concerned. He hung up.  
  
Logan rolled up into the room where Bling was staying.  
  
They want me to stay overnight. They say I've lost a lot of blood, and that I might have an infection.  
  
Did they already give you the blood transfusion?  
  
  
  
Then you're going to have to get the antibiotics to go. We're going to Canada.  
  
This count for triple pay, Logan? joking, jovial.  
  
No. Not yet, serious, distracted. Thinking about Max.  
  
Logan went to talk to his doctor. Any qualms about Bling leaving were solved by a small cash donation to the Doctor's cause.   
  
Bling helped Logan into the car. They drove north on I-5, Logan plugged into his laptop the whole way, both of them listening to the car chase as it progressed, miles ahead of them.  
  
Bling. Do you know where these trails are? I promised I'd call Max with the details, Logan said.  
  
No. I never made that run. I just heard about it.  
  
So you were more local Seattle, then, huh?  
  
Bling said, forgetting who he was talking to, then realizing his admission. I'm sorry, Logan. I never told you because I thought that you would... you know. Fire me. Make me quit. Bling paused, letting the words sink in, gripping the steering wheel a bit more tightly. Logan remained silent. Bling continued, But I don't want to quit, Logan. The words were rushing out now, Bling hadn't taken the time to consider them, You're doing good things, and you have more heart and more guts and more spirit than ninety percent of the people out there. And that's saying something for a spoiled little white boy. Bling glanced over at Logan a little apprehensive, hoping he hadn't blown it with his boss and his friend.  
  
I know you don't want to quit, Bling. Otherwise you would have already left. You've risked yourself for me before, and now you're doing it again. Logan smiled, here. I just pulled you out of the hospital where you're supposed to be staying, and you're driving me into Canada. Why would I care if you used to deal drugs? Logan paused, smiled again, and said, We all make mistakes, and you're on the right side now. I meant what I said back in the elevator. You're my only soldier now. And you're a damned fine one, too, Bling. Damned fine.  
  
There was a silence in the car for a moment while both men considered what had just been said. It seemed as if a critical juncture had been passed--a watershed moment that might change the two men's relationship. Trust. They had it in one another.  
  
And don't call me a spoiled little white boy, Logan finally said, smiling, making a joke, but also maintaining the distance that was neccessary for all of his relationships.   
  
That's when they heard Max losing the final Hummer, leaving her to contend only with Lydecker, who was yelling all sorts of obscenities at his hapless helpers.  
  
That girl sure can drive, Bling said.  
  
Yeah. Remind me never to let her drive my car again.  
  
Okay...but only if you remind me not to let her drive _my_ car, Bling said.  
  
I have to call her, Logan said. Bling handed him his cell phone. Logan called the Aztek's car phone.  
  
Max said tersely.  
  
Nice work. You lost that last Hummer. Lydecker's furious, Logan smiled into the phone, thinking of her adversary turning purple with rage.  
  
I bet he is, Max said, What do I do once I get to Sumas?   
  
Apparently, there are off-road trails that can take you into Canada. People use them to smuggle drugs. You should be able to get into Canada without too much hassle that way.  
  
How do I get there? Max said.  
  
I'm not sure. They're obviously not on my maps. _And Bling doesn't know where they are, either. _They're going to be past the North edge of town. Keep your eyes peeled, and you should be able to find them. _I hope. _ Once you're on them, Lydecker won't be able to follow. That van won't do well on the off-road trails.   
  
said Max, And Logan?  
  
  
  
Be careful.  
  
Logan was opening his mouth to say You too, when he realized he was talking into a dial tone.   
  
We can take I-5 all the way through, Bling, Logan said, putting the cell phone on the dash. You don't want to wreck this nice car by taking off-road, do you?  
  
Actually, I was thinking that we should follow her. Then we will have already met up with her by tonight, if everything goes well, Bling said.  
  
No. I think it's too dangerous. Lydecker knows what we look like, and if he spots us, all he has to do is trail us.  
  
Then I-5 it is. And thank goodness I got the extra-dark tint on these windows. Bling smiled.  
  
asked Logan.  
  
What kind of drug dealer did you think I was? Of course they're bulletproof.  
  
Logan laughed.  
  
They listened to the laptop spout out the dialogue between Lydecker and the other cars. He was setting up a rally point in Sumas, where Lydecker would get permission from whatever was left of the federal government to pursue Max across the border. She had bought herself a day. Maybe two days if she kept moving through the night. Three days if Logan could meet up with her, and keep her out of sight in Canada. Maybe longer if they could make it to Vancouver and fly out of Canada, somewhere else. Maybe Europe, Japan, Australia. Somewhere else, where they could wait until the heat cooled off and they could come back to Seattle. If they could ever come back to Seattle.  
  
Logan stretched his hands over his head as Bling turned the volume of the car stereo up, booming some old school Wu-Tang Clan, bobbing his head in time with the bass kicks.  
  
_It's gonna be a long week, _thought Logan. _A very long week._


	4. Secrets Revealed

**Darkstar Rising, Part 8**: **Secrets Revealed  
  
Author's notes:** I can't find a good map of the US/Canada Border online. I should go to the library, but I'm not making any money off of this bad boy, so, that's kinda out. So, if there are any mistakes--and there are some proud Canadians from British Columbia that I can talk to, who know the geography, please eMail me, and I'll fix this bad boy up. And we can talk about the Canucks, if you want, too. Oh, and, sorry this took so long. I'm having serious internal dialogue problems. I don't have enough angst for some people, I guess. Sorry if this installment came out flat. Oh, and no poem this time. I'm fresh out of anything that even tangentially relates to this.  
  
**Darkstar Rising 8--Secrets Revealed  
  
**Max was starving. She hadn't eaten since the night before, and her revved-up metabolism that allowed her to jump higher, run faster, lift more, see farther, sleep less, and heal more quickly also ate up more calories. It was probably hard to engineer something that had more horsepower and was more efficient at the same time, she guessed. She probably ate between 3000 and 4000 calories per day... running deliveries for _Jam Pony_ ate up the K-Cals, and the constant missions for _Eyes Only_ probably ate up the rest. Like everything else, though, she showed it off, eating whatever she wanted, and never gaining a pound. But it sucked in instances like this--where she couldn't get to a source of food very easily. Just one more built-in dependence. Manticore were never supposed to be front-line soldiers, anyway--those who often starved on the front lines--but rather, they were constructed to be better than the best special ops teams in the world--the SEALs, the Green Berets, and those other combat units. This meant short deployments, especially when it was discovered that, as children, they were already burning in the neighborhood of 2500 calories per day. Max didn't know this detail, but often Lydecker was discovering as much about the things that they could and could not do when they were children as the Manticore soldiers were themselves.   
  
She also didn't know that Lydecker considered himself as her father. And, honestly, in some twisted way, he thought he was doing the right thing. If you'd ever asked him what he was doing, or why, he would've said: I'm just training my kids to be the best they can be. I don't care if they hate me. It's the Army way. They'll thank me when they're in some foxhole in a godless crater of a third world country, eating mud, and they'll realize why I made them the way I made them. It's a tough world out there, and you have to be strong to survive. So I made them the strongest. And, in his own way, he loved all of them. Even those demented mutants, the X-1s and those pathetic weaklings, the X-2s. Even them. It took five times before he had a usable prototype--and that's what the X-5s were, a prototype. They still didn't have all the bugs worked out. But somehow, they had what all the other ones before and since didn't have. Firstly, the X-5s were the strongest, fastest group, leaving even the X-7s in the dust. Then again, the X-7s didn't have to eat thousands upon thousands of calories per day. And they didn't have Tryptophan problems. But even beyond those structural differences, the X-5 group had had something else. Will. Determination. Anger. Power.  
  
That's what he wanted for all of his groups. Power. And only one group had it. The X-5s. Sure, the other groups were strong and fast. But the X-5s were the only group that was smart-- smart enough to evade and avoid him for ten years now, smart enough to outwit career soldiers at the age of 10, smart enough to escape.   
  
Sometimes, in the still of the night, Lydecker would wonder if he had mistaken what made a soldier a warrior. _It's not speed, it's not strength, it's not brains, it's not guts. I can hype up their fast-twich muscle fibers, I can double the contractile strength of their actin and myosin to make them twice as strong, I can reinforce their bones to take the strain. I can even increase their brains to make them better at plotting, thinking, and working under strain than the unenhanced soldier. But I can't make them warriors. I can't give them will. I can't give them determination._ He'd roll over, then, and try to sleep, usually thinking about the X-5s... the only warriors that he'd ever created.   
  
--  
  
Max pulled the Aztek into a little town just north of the Canadian border. She wasn't very sure where she was--the highways in Canada weren't as well maintained. 90% of Canadian cities are within a few hundred miles of the US/Canada border. So when the US got pulsed, Canada got pulsed, too, just by accident. Many people had moved further North in the last ten years, and it showed. This place was a shanty-town. In fact, many people--the rich, mostly, had been going to Alaska and Hawaii for years--two of the only places where everything from before still worked like it had--for the most part.   
  
Max got out and took a long look at the Aztek. Covered in mud, airbag deployed, front end pretty much wrecked, the Aztek had also taken a few bullets from near the end of the chase. She didn't know how much longer it would last. It was probably totaled--it'd be cheaper just to buy Logan a new car.   
  
_Food, now!_ her stomach screamed. She turned, and started walking to what looked like a diner--a greasy spoon.  
  
That's when he came out. Front tooth glinting gold in the dirty lamplight. A sliver flash, there, once... again. A knife. A butterfly knife.  
  
_Damn, _thought Max, _I'm still fucking sore from the car ride.  
  
_Gonna roll me, dude? she said, trying to sneer but too tired and hungry to really do so. It came out flat.   
  
He grinned again, that front tooth gleaming.  
  
I'm not easy pickings, she said, trying to sound tougher than she felt.   
  
That's when number two bad dude revealed himself. An aluminum baseball bat. _Thugs,_ thought Max. Dismissive. Even tired, she could take these guys--with one arm tied behind her back.  
  
Max settled into a fighting stance. She looked like Bruce Lee, and completed the transformation into full-on bad-ass mode by scratching her nose twice with her thumb, then putting one hand back by her jaw, while dropping the other hand gunslinger low.  
  
Bring it. I want to hurry up and eat, and that gold tooth might buy me dinner, she said, sounding tougher to herself. _Maybe it's the fighting stance_, she thought, _when in doubt, punch them out._  
  
Bat boy attacked first. He swung the bat in a wide arc--a home run hitter, trying to knock her head into the stands.   
  
_Weak,_ thought Max.  
  
Most people would try to step outside the arc of a bat, to avoid it altogether. Most people are stupid. The end of the bat is moving much, much faster than the handle--it's simple physics. Max knew this. She stepped into him as he swung, checking his hands with hers. She could smell his sickeningly sweet breath--like something rotting--and what was like froot loops covering stale sweat. She turned with the momentum of the bat, left hand still checking, putting her right palm into his chin, jacking the thug's head back. He literally lifted off his feet before he came crashing to the ground as Max completed the circle, exhaling.  
  
That's what you get when you rush the mound, said Max.  
  
Knifer was coming up now, flipping his butterfly knife open, then closed, then open again, the movements so quick as to almost be invisible, except for to an X-5. Max stood with the bat, watching him, each movement catalogued and rated. Fighting was always like this for Max: people seemed to be moving like molasses, and she had forever to decide what to do, how to do it, and what to say when she did it.   
  
Still want to go, chump? If you need money, why don't you just pawn that tooth? Max said, watching his slow motion jiggle forward.   
  
He was in range, now, knife flipping shut, then open one last time. Smiling, gold tooth glinting in the streetlight. Feral, like he wanted to cut Max up and ear her for dinner.  
  
Max choked up on the bat, holding it one handed, spinning it with a flip of her wrist. You're going to have to get a little closer if you want to use that knife, Max said, almost bored.  
  
Je ne crois pas, he said--or something like that. His pronunciation was muddied.  
  
_French-Canadian, _she thought as she heard bat boy getting up behind her. She threw a back kick, blind, but guided by hearing, feeling the connection as her boot sank into his midsection, feeling him slump over. _No time for satisfaction, Maxie,_ she thought, _Heads up._  
  
Knife man was going for a slash on her right arm, her weapon arm. She checked his knife arm with her left hand, rolling the bat with her right, bringing the weapon down fast, hard, on his knife arm. The knife jerked up and out of his hand as his forearm splintered, but she was already moving to the outside, slinging the bat away as she went for his neck. She wrapped her legs around his torso, and grabbed one of her arms with the other. _Like molasses,_ she thought.   
  
he said, right before she sunk the choke, cutting off his blood supply, and he lost consciousness, falling backwards on top of her.  
  
Night night, she said, pushing his body off of hers. Her hands forming dusty clouds that blossomed off of him in the grungy streetlights.  
  
_Fighting really does make a girl hungry_ Max thought. She grabbed their weapons and tossed them into a nearby dumpster, then hopped in the Aztek and took off, looking for another place to eat-- there was no need to extend a conflict between the men by going to the diner.  
  
Meanwhile, the camo-clad girl, known as to her friends, was on a Harley, headed for Max's approximate position, an identical girl in identical clothing riding behind her.   
  
_She's going to pay, _Elle thought.   
  
Elle had two sisters. They weren't triplets, though. The editions above the X-5 came as clones. Lydecker thought it might be an asset to have identical soldiers, for some reason. It was a control group of some sort: two or more soldiers with the exact same genotype. Elle was the first of three. Her sisters, one of whom Max had disabled, were named Erica and Emo. Lydecker had encouraged them to take names, to distinguish one from the other, and to try to encourage the teamwork that the X-5s had had.  
  
Max had broken Erica's ribs and knocked her out. Emo had been tracking her back to her apartment, and Elle had gone to the Cale man's house to wait for her. They'd been tracking her for a while. She'd either lost some of her edge since Manticore, or the triplets' training was better than hers. _Probably both_, she thought. _Though she did surprise all three of us.  
  
_When Elle escaped from Cale's grasp, she had stolen the Harley (that was something all of the X-series did very well: steal) and went back to the rally point. Erica had already gone back with Lydecker--she was in a body cast. All of her ribs were broken. She wasn't very useful to the cause right now.   
  
Emo was pissed, as usual. Where have you been, Elle?  
  
I was... tied up. Her face not betraying how literal that statement was.   
  
I've been monitoring the radio transmissions. The X-5 is headed into Canada.  
  
Then we should pursue. Every statement crisp, with military precision.  
  
Emo hopped on the back of the cycle, and Elle headed north.  
  
They stopped just short of the border, and had a quick conversation with Lydecker via radio. He gave them permission to continue, but they were no longer U.S. soldiers once they were in Canada. They were secret agents. That suited the sisters fine. They owed that bitch Max a big one.   
  
The sisters had never once thought of betraying Lydecker, not really. Each of them had a tiny explosive charge implanted at the base of their skull. If Lydecker didn't like what they were doing--if they challenged an order or tried to run, that small charge would go off, killing them immediately. They used to have another sister. They called her Ex, now--a grisly sort of joke--when they talked about her, which wasn't very often any more.   
  
Meanwhile, the Aztek's cell phone rang.   
  
said Logan.   
  
Max smiled, happy to hear his voice again. she said, her smile audible over the phone, a little out of breath thanks to the ass-kicking she had just handed out.  
  
What would you say to a nice dinner? he said.  
  
I'd say, hell yes. How soon can you be here? Her eyes glancing to the clock on the dash of the Aztek.  
  
Where's here? Logan said.  
  
Max described her position.   
  
I'm going to grab something to eat while I'm waiting, okay? she said. _I'm starving,_ she thought.  
  
Don't spoil your appetite, he said.  
  
I don't think that's going to be a problem.  
  
She hung up the phone and found a nice little pizza joint called the One Love Pizza. The at the end of was burned out. So it said One Love Pizz. Max walked in.  
  
True to form, the walls were decorated with dozens of stickers and posters, many of them proclaiming the wonders of Marijuana, the Grateful Dead, Aliens, and Bob Marley. Sometimes all of them at once. A fairhaired-dreadlocked man took her order.  
  
_Talks like Herbal,_ she thought. _But looks like Sketchy. With dreadlocks._  
  
She popped her neck and stretched her shoulders, waiting for her food. Logan had told her during their short conversation that he'd be there soon. She hoped that bitch that they'd captured in the elevator wouldn't be. She'd had quite enough for one day, thanks.  
  
A song came on over the speakers in the One Love, and she immediately felt better. Reggae back beat, organ, wah pedal and Bob Marley making music. She wondered, briefly, if she wasn't picking up a contact high. That's how good this music was making her feel. It was giving her some insight into Herbal's general condition.  
  
Hey, fuzzy! she yelled, impatient, You smokin' somethin' funny back there?  
  
Just the Zion herb, mon... and it's time for another hit. I haven't had one since this morning, he yelled back.   
  
Better lay off until I'm out of the store, Max yelled back, I don't smoke Ganja.  
She lowered her voice as he came back with her supreme pizza.  
  
She threw him a wadded up twenty. He smoothed it, looked at it carefully, then looked up at Max. We don't take yankee dollars here, mon.  
  
It's all I got, Max said, the sight of the pizza making her stomach do flips.  
  
They worthless, here, bumbaclot.  
  
Well, them belly full, but we hungry, mon, she said, aping Sketchy as best as she knew how. At this, his face spread from serious into a wide grin, the ratty blonde beard on his face spreading, thinning even more.  
  
You listen to Marley?  
  
A little, Max lied--leading him on a little, smiling now.   
  
Ah. On the house, his smile continued. If yo' change yo' mind bout de herb...  
  
I'll let you know... I could use a beer, though. Still flirting with him. Hungry as hell.  
  
He stared carefully at the twenty that Max had laid in front of him again, then back at Max, who smiled at him.  
  
Bossman kill me for this, he grabbed a beer from a small refrigerator, a Molson, poured it into a pint mug and handed it to her.  
  
He smiled at her again, showing uneven teeth between ratty beard. He was somehow cute beside himself.   
  
Max grabbed the large pizza and the beer and sat down in the corner, ready to eat. The music shifted from Bob Marley to some überragga--a weird combination of Ragga, Dancehall, German Techno-pop and Turkish hip hop--superfast lyrics on top of house beats and weird Turkish melodies.   
  
That's when Elle and Emo came through the door, their hair mussed from the cycle, a bit sweaty from the ride. Max saw them first, before either of them spotted her.  
  
_Goddamn it,_ Max thought. _Am I ever going to get to eat?  
_  
Two to one, the other girls, though younger, had been trained longer by Lydecker in hand to hand combat. This was not a good scene. Max threw back half the beer in a single swallow, as Emo put her hand on Max's shoulder. Max could smell her before she could turn to see her: sweat and chemical curlicues like fear and hate but with an artificial aftertaste, like metal. _She's on something_, Max thought, _they're both on something._  
  
Fancy meeting you here, Emo said with her ever-present rage just barely under the surface, Max's back still facing her.  
  
You bitch. You broke all of our sister's ribs, Elle said, matter-of-factly, as if she were discussing the latest tennis scores.  
  
_Ooh, I see Lydecker's still teaching classes in intimidation. Well, I've been doing this for longer than they have, _Max thought. I just want to sit and eat, and then I'll go with you. Okay? Max said, staring straight ahead, not moving. _They're both drenched in this smell... what is it?_  
  
No. I don't think so, Emo said--the dam on her rage threatening to burst.   
  
We're going to break all of your ribs then tie you up before we send you to Lydecker, Elle said, pleasantly.  
  
Max finished her beer, and put her opposite hand on Emo's pinky finger, which she wrenched suddenly and forcefully upwards. She swiveled and stood, punching forcefully with the mug on her right hand, breaking the mug's heavy glass open on Emo's face. The central bones of Emo's face, from the bottom of her eyes to the top of her teeth, were now concave. Little flecks of beer mixed with the sudden blood spray from her very broken nose. Emo fell to the floor, clutching her face. She had been beautiful, five seconds ago. Now she would need some major reconstructive surgery to be beautiful again.   
  
Dreadlocks came to the front, still smoking the joint that he had started in the back room.  
  
Elle was already moving, bringing one leg up into a chambered position, then throwing a perfect roundhouse kick at Max's head. Lydecker wouldn't have been disappointed.  
  
Max slipped the kick, sliding under the head-hunting blow and bringing what remained of the beer mug underneath the arc of the kick, trying to cut Elle's leg wide open. Instead, Max only got a piece of her fatigues, tearing three wide slashes into the inner thigh side. _These cats don't move like molasses,_ Max thought.   
  
Emo moaned softly from the floor, a gurgling sound. Her mouth was filled with blood.  
  
Dreadlocks had a shotgun out and pointed at Elle. He racked the shotgun, loudly, and for effect.  
  
Elle noticed, and froze. They were trained to freeze, then find safe cover. Elle might have been a little too well trained, as she froze solid in the middle of a hand-to-hand battle. _Her pupils are blown,_ Max thought, looking into the other girl's eyes, _whatever they're on must be pretty wack shit. _Elle's freeze gave Max the chance she needed, launching a series of kicks, first to Elle's legs, then to her body. Then, as she came to her knees, to her head. Elle's eyes rolled back in her head as she lost consciousness.  
  
What the bumbaclot that all bout, mon? The joint in his mouth bobbing as he said the words.  
  
Just some... sisters of mine. Her hands moving through her hair. _I probably look like shit,_ Max thought.  
  
No brothers or sisters should fight like that, mon. Taking a large drag.  
  
Yeah, well... we from Babylon, you know?   
  
You realize I got to call the cops? Suddenly his Rastafarian accent gone.   
  
Yeah. You better finish that joint first, though, Max trying to remind him of what he was doing.  
  
Right. Right, he said, smoking lazily, the accent back.  
  
While you're doing that, I'm going to eat. Max already sitting down again.  
  
Emo moaned softly from the floor. Max nudged her over with her shoe.   
  
She ripped into the pizza with a vengeancefinishing the whole thing and standing up in a matter of minutes. Dreadlocks was still working on his joint, savoring it, enjoying it.   
  
Well, sweetie, I gotta go. I'm sorry I can't hang around to chat or talk to the police or anything...  
  
No worries, mon. I&I will clean this mess up.  
  
The police had better be here before these two cats wake up, Natty... otherwise, they might be a little angry about your shotgun and all.  
  
Right, right, he said, somehow forming the words and blowing smoke rings at the same time.  
  
Right about then, Elle came back awake, her eyes popping open. _There's that smell again, _Max thought. _What is that?  
  
_Elle was up, standing, and ready for round two. Max had just eaten a supreme pizza and she was not in the best shape for fighting, at the moment.   
  
Max took a straight left and a right cross on her forearms, absorbing the blows. She felt like she was going to barf... _maybe all that food at once wasn't such a good idea,_ she thought. Max closed the gap and went into a clinch with Elle. Elle went to knee her in the stomach, but Max stepped on Elle's foot, forcing the leg back down. Max brought her other knee up into Elle's side, feeling the ribs give way slightly. Elle grunted as Max slammed her knee into Elle's ribs over and over, feeling her ribs crack. Elle went for a head butt, and staggered Max. Max stumbled back two or three steps.   
  
That's when Elle's knee exploded. Literally. One second it was there, and the next second, there was blood and bone and flesh flying everywhere. Elle collapsed immediately.  
  
Max looked over to see Dreadlocks with a crooked grin on his face, what was left of the joint clutched in his teeth and a smoking shotgun still pointed at Elle.  
  
Get on out a here, mon. I call the cops now.  
  
said Max, breathlessly.   
  
Jah bless you and keep you! he yelled, as Max ran out the door.  
  
Max hopped in the Aztek. She had a date tonight, and she looked like hell. 


End file.
